(no subject)
Title: Withdrawal - Craving
Fandom/Pairing: Lost - Charlie/Sayid
Rating: NC-17 (for teh p0rn & dark themes)
Summary: Sayid continues to help Charlie with his withdrawal.
Warnings: Angst (oh boy is there angst), dark imagery.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never will.
Feedback: Makes me giddy.
Notes: A massive thank you and huge amounts of love to lillyjk who created this particular take on the characters of Charlie & Sayid in her incredible fic "Withdrawal" and then let me play with them. She also beta'd the hell out it too (in mega fast time) thanks babe!
This is set post Exodus and has many spoilers in it for season 1 (well kind of anyway!)
ETA: What I should have said when I posted this was - the basis behind this (soon to be) series of fics is philomel's Kinkathon request for Charlie back on the Smack and Sayid helping him off it. Sorry! It was 6.30am!
Withdrawal - Craving
The dreams come again that night, darker now - made into nightmares as the toxins which lie hidden deep within his body slowly seep into his bloodstream. Events replay in his mind in new and frightening ways, reality twisted into a horror show of that which could have come to pass. Locke dead, ripped apart by the monster that lurks in the jungle. Jack’s body lying broken at the foot of a cliff. Sawyer found tied up in a bamboo grove, empty eye sockets staring blankly ahead. Claire gone never to return. Michael burning along with his raft. In his dream he runs through the jungle, searching desperately for another human, calling out names until his voice is gone and tears stream down his face. He breaks free from the trees and finds himself on a beach where a rescue ship waits offshore. The remaining survivors climb aboard, but when he moves to join them Sayid blocks his path. He hands Charlie a hollow idol filled with powder tells him that he is not worthy of rescue, that he deserves to be left here on the island alone, the world had no use for a pathetic junkie like him, no one wants him, no one cares. He turns and walks away to join the others on the ship's deck, not looking back. Charlie falls to his knees and watches as the boat sails away. From the trees a whispering starts, growing in volume until it is so loud that it falls like blows on his ears. "Pathetic junkie, worthless loser, useless, alone, alone, alone."
*****
Alone. No heat from a body lying beside him. Silence in the cave, its space empty save for him lying naked, curled up under a ragged blanket. Body drawn in on itself to ward off the pain of his dreams. Shivering now. Sweat pouring out of him soaking the blankets underneath, the cold of the cave floor seeping through so that it feels like he is lying on ice. Alone. Sayid has gone, left him like everyone does, can’t be coming back because his arms and legs are free. If he was going to return then he would have tied him up again, made sure he couldn’t leave, but he hasn’t, too disgusted by the worthless druggie to stick around. The sunlight is too bright, need to get away from it. Hide in the dark at the back of the cave. Stay here, fade away into nothing, no one to miss him, no one to come looking.
Fuck, there’s fire crawling in his veins, like ants burrowing under the surface of his skin. They’re spreading, multiplying, marching up his arms, his legs. Need to get them out. Need to stop them moving. Dig in and find them, make them go away. Why didn’t he tie me up? Why has he left me? He promised. No need to tell the truth to someone who lies all the time. Let him think someone cares then use him and leave just like everyone else does. Blood is on fire, burning through the skin, it hurts so fucking much. Everything’s twitching, legs moving without permission and the voices are back. Louder now, familiar, saying his name, calling out to him, Charlie, Charlie...
"Charlie look at me!"
The sting of a hand slapping his cheek and he focuses on Sayid’s face, worry in those eyes that see everything, see too much. Fading away again now as the insects under his skin crawl faster. Ragged nails tear at his arms as he tries to set them free, get them out. He can hear a keening sound, animalistic, like a dog trapped and afraid. That can’t be him making that sound can it? He feels detached, like he’s floating away. He can see himself pressed against the walls at the back of the cave, rocking back and forth in place, Sayid crouched down in front of him hands reaching out to capture his wrists, stopping him from adding to the blood that runs down his arms.
"You are hurting yourself, Charlie. Stop. Stop now"
Stop. The word snaps him back into place and he stops moving, stops scratching, stops the noise from coming out of his mouth. Listen to Sayid, do what he says. Do what he tells you to do. Fingers push leaves into his mouth and he starts to chew, that’s what Sayid wants him to do so he does it. A hand ghosts across his face, soothing the place where his cheek glows red, fingers slide through his hair, moving to cup the back of his skull drawing his head forward and down, the feeling of lips pressing against his forehead as the black of oblivion settles in again and he slumps into waiting arms.
*******
He wakes to the sound of water and the feel of grass beneath his body. This time he is not alone, this time Sayid is lying beside him, pressed in close enough that the inhale and exhale as he breathes causes the hair on the back of Charlie’s neck to move in time to its rhythm. Sayid is murmuring to himself, the words unfamiliar to Charlie’s ears. He strains to understand before he realises that Sayid is speaking Arabic, his native language flowing from his mouth in a way that the English he has adopted never quite manages. Instinctively Charlie knows that Sayid is praying and he holds himself still so that he doesn’t interrupt. Charlie was once a religious man, before Driveshaft, before Liam, before his fall from grace made him the sinner he is now, he understands the power of faith and the calming nature of talking to one’s God and as he listens his mind fills with regret at the loss of it in his world. No going back though, not now that the image of The Virgin will forever be tainted in his mind by the lure of hazy sweet warmth spreading through his limbs, blotting out all that he hates and fears, taking his pain and self-doubt and banishing it far away from view.
He can feel it creeping through him, the craving taking hold of him, he wants one last hit, just one - for the road so to speak. He’s clean again now, Sayid has worked his magic and just one hit won’t hurt any. Won’t get him addicted again. Saliva floods his mouth as the need begins to build and he tries to swallow but instead his body is wracked by a coughing fit that makes him shake and draw his arms around himself as though he is trying to stop his lungs from bursting from his chest. Behind him Sayid stops speaking and, as strong arms wrap around him to hold him fast, a pang of regret courses through him at the words Sayid has had to leave unsaid.
The coughing subsides and a hand moves up to rest on his forehead the feel of it cold against his skin and that can’t be right. He shouldn’t feel a chill at the touch of Sayid’s hand.
"You have a fever. It is a product of the withdrawal. I brought you to the water to cool you down."
Sayid’s voice is soft, calming. The words stroking over him, urging him to relax. But then the memory of waking alone comes back and a bitterness surfaces.
"You didn’t tie me up."
He feels Sayid pull back and he can easily imagine the confusion that is crossing his face.
"I am sorry Charlie, I do not understand."
Sayid wouldn’t understand would he? He doesn’t fear being alone, he’s too strong and together for something so stupid to bother him. Charlie realises how pathetic he will sound, how needy and weak but he speaks anyway.
"I thought you weren’t coming back. I woke up alone and you hadn’t tied me up so I thought…"
A hand cups his chin and he finds himself turned to face Sayid, features grave, his eyes filled with pity and the sight of it makes Charlie try to turn his head away, but Sayid’s hand holds his head in place.
"I apologise. I left to retrieve some water thinking that you would remain asleep but it seems that your body is becoming used to the effects of the leaves and you woke before I returned. I promised that I will not leave you and I intend to keep my word."
Unblinking eyes fix on his and it feels like Sayid is staring into the very depths of him. Now he needs to look away, not in disbelief at the words spoken but to hide the darkness that he knows dwells deep inside. Can’t cope with seeing the disappointment and disgust that will appear when Sayid discovers just how worthless he really is. How pointless the idea is, of saving someone who cannot be saved.
"I need to clean the cuts on your arms. I did not want to do it while you were asleep as it will be quite painful."
Charlie looks down at his arms and sees for the first time the criss-cross pattern of scratches across his skin. Some are superficial, others deeper, darkened with clotted blood. A memory of burning in his veins bursts forth and he begins to feel it start again. His fingers flex, nails scraping at his own palms as the insects begin to stir.
"Look at me Charlie."
His head snaps up, the command in Sayid’s voice impossible not to obey.
"I can assure you that there is nothing underneath your skin. It is purely your imagination playing tricks on you. Now, sit up and hold out your arms."
A slight wave of dizziness hits as he sits up straight. His arms shaking slightly as he holds them out. His fingertips brush Sayid’s chest as he kneels down and Charlie wants to let his hands roam across the muscles there, he wants to feel them flex under his touch. He closes his eyes as the memory of Sayid moving above him, Sayid inside him, pushes the crawling-burning aside and fills him with a new kind of fire.
A hand closes around his wrist, thumb stroking across his pulse point and he opens his eyes to see Sayid smiling, lips curling more now as amusement fills his eyes.
"This will hurt."
Charlie is confused, all they have is water how is that going to…… Fuck! Reflex kicks in and he tries to pull his arm away from whatever it is that Sayid has just put on it.
"What the fuck is that? It fucking stings."
Sayid stops what he is doing, reaches down to the ground and then waves a small bottle in front of Charlie’s face.
"Vodka. I acquired it from Sawyer. I thought it best to bring it with us in case either of us had a wound that needed to be cleaned. I had hoped that it would remain unopened…"
Sawyer? Sawyer knew why Sayid had lead him away from the camp. If Sawyer knew then so did everyone. Shame flared bright inside him, he couldn’t go back, not now the whole camp knew what a fucked up mess he was.
"Do not worry. I did not tell him why we were leaving or where we were going. I would not trust him with information like that. He accused me of wanting to get you drunk and have my, how did he put it, wicked way with you. I assured him that was not the case. Luckily I do not think he caught my lie. I find it amazing that, even when weakened by a bullet wound, that man still finds the strength to go out of his way to annoy me."
So Sayid did lie sometimes then, perhaps he was lying when he said the heroin had been destroyed. It could be used as medicine, Jack might need it one day. Sayid probably hid it somewhere safe that only he and Jack knew about, if he could just get him to tell him where it was…
Charlie watched as Sayid cleaned the rest of the cuts on his arms, mind racing as he tried to think of the best way to get him to reveal the location of the stash. The craving was back now, filling his senses. Just one hit, one perfect taste of oblivion that’s all he wanted. His mouth was dry with the need of it. He could almost feel the warmth spreading through his limbs, cradling him as he drifted away. He wanted it so badly that he would do anything to get it, anything.
Hands on his shoulders drew his attention back to Sayid and he looked up to see him standing in front of him. His waist level with Charlie’s eyes, zipper and what lay behind it level with his mouth. Anything It wasn’t like Sayid was likely to object now was it - a win/win situation. Sayid would get his dick sucked and he would get his drugs. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before sex for drugs, drugs for sex. It was all endorphins after all, just released into the body via a different method.
Charlie shifted forward, moving in close to nuzzle his head into Sayid’s thigh, breathing the scent of him in so that it filled his senses. Fingers threaded their way into his hair and he smiled to himself. This was better than the times he had done this before, at least this time he liked the guy he was on his knees in front of. He had fantasised about the feel-taste of Sayid’s cock in his mouth so many times since they crashed on this damn island, long before he woke up in his arms in a hidden cave. He smiled to himself at the guilty pleasure he would get whilst he earned his fix and then reached up a hand to open Sayid’s fly.
"Know this now, I will not give you any drugs no matter what you do. You may continue with your plan if you wish, I will not object but you will not receive what you want at the end of it."
The fucker could read minds. That was the only possible explanation. Charlie tried to think of something to say but his mind was blank.
"Stand up."
No way was he standing up now. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in Sayid’s eyes.
"I repeat. Stand up."
Hands pushed under his arms and he was yanked to his feet. Can’t look him in the eye. Deny his accusation, act hurt, make him feel sorry for you.
"I brought you here to help you, not to let you continue to kill yourself. Do not make me regret my actions."
Rage filled him as he realised that he would not get his way and he lashed out with words, seeking to hurt deep to the core of the man who had up till now been his saviour.
"You brought me here to torture me. I know what you are, what you did. You enjoy inflicting pain on people, you like breaking them, watching them squirm, making them beg. You like that I need you to help me. You want to make me dependant on you, make me into your own personal whore. Pathetic Charlie, yours for the taking when you want him. So needy, so desperate, he’ll do anything for a little attention."
He was striking out with his fists now too, raining blows onto Sayid’s chest and arms. No longer in control of his actions, of his mouth.
"You don’t need to break me to have me. Just give me the drugs and you can do anything you want to me, tie me up, beat me, fuck me till I scream I don’t care just give me the drugs."
A hand caught one of his and he found himself spun round, his arm twisted high behind his back making him hiss in pain. Sayid leant in close and a voice heavy with menace sounded in his ear.
"I have no intention of beating you Charlie. I have no desire to cause you pain. I am however, going to tie you up until you calm down."
Charlie laughed, of course Sayid was going to tie him up again.
"You like this bondage thing don’t you. Binding my hands so that you’re in charge. Did they teach you that in Iraq? And what’s with the keeping me naked all the time? Are you ever going to let me wear clothes again or am I your dirty little secret. Naked Charlie stashed away in a cave far from prying eyes. Waiting for you to come and fuck me. I don’t care what you do, use me however you want just give me the fucking heroin."
As he spoke he felt his hands pulled together at the base of his spine and rope being wound round them and he realised that the feel of it, of his control being taken away was going straight to his groin. His cock filling at the thought of Sayid sinking into him, filling him, making him feel something other than empty and useless.
"I do not think that you mean what you are saying Charlie, so I am going to ignore your words, particularly as it would appear that you enjoy being tied up, or at least, a part of you does."
A hand snaked round his hip and at the first touch of Sayid’s fingers wrapping around his cock all the anger left him and he felt himself relax. Head lolling back so that it rested on Sayid’s shoulder, eyes closed, sensation washing over him.
Pressure on the back of his knees and he obeyed the wordless command. Lowering himself slowly down to the ground, Sayid following behind him, his hand still moving on Charlie’s cock. The pressure just right as it slid up and down. He heard the sound of a zipper opening, then a muttered curse and the hand left his cock and he grinned when he realised that there were some things even Sayid couldn’t do. Removing his trousers one handed whilst on his knees being one of them.
"I want to be inside you again Charlie. But only if you want it too. Answer me truthfully, what do you want me to do?"
"Fuck me" There was no other answer to give.
"Are you sure that you would not prefer me to give you your drugs?" The menace was back in Sayid’s voice sending shivers down Charlie’s spine.
"Don’t want drugs. Want you."
"A very eloquent answer. Now lean forward."
Pressure on the back of his neck and he followed its direction. A pile of clothes pushed in front of him to keep his head from the ground. He buried his face into them and inhaled, the scent of Sayid filling his senses once more. He thought briefly that he should feel ashamed, kneeling on the ground, his arms tied behind his back, his ass in the air, legs spread wide apart waiting for Sayid to settle in between them. But that thought left his mind as he felt Sayid’s hands slowly travel the length of his spine. Thumbs digging in hard, fingers ghosting at their sides, muscles that he didn’t realise were tense relaxing as they were touched by those magic hands. Over and over the hands moved up and down his spine, nerve endings igniting in their wake. He felt hypnotised by the rhythm, his awareness of where he was vanishing until there was only his skin and Sayid’s hands and the shivers they sent skittering through his nervous system. He strained against his bonds, wanting to reach out and pull Sayid’s hands lower. Needing to feel them on his ass, between his legs, wrapped around his cock. His breathing slowed, inhale as the hands moved up, exhale as they moved down.
Then they were gone and he moaned at the loss, pushing back against Sayid’s body, desperate for contact. A hand on his ass, then dipping down between his legs to cup and roll his balls making him gasp and moan for more. A single finger tracing it’s way upwards, slick with liquid. Pressure on his perineum ripping another moan from his throat. Then a hand gripped his cock and a finger pushed inside him at the same moment and he cried out at the pleasure-pain of it, pushing back again, wanting, needing more.
A second finger joined the first and the hand on his cock fisted him in time to the movement of them in and out of his body. Fingers opening him up, ghosting over the spot that made him cry out for more. Too slow, too gentle, this was torture. He wanted to feel the stretch and burn of Sayid’s cock inside him now not this tenderness, this care that Sayid was taking.
A laugh, and he realised that he must have said some of that out loud. The weight of Sayid’s body on his back as he whispered in his ear.
"Patience."
"Please, God please just fuck me." Desperation overwhelming now, the craving taking him over.
Another laugh and then the fingers were withdrawn and an arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him up as he felt the blunt pressure of Sayid’s cock pushing inside him until he was seated with his legs on either side of Sayid’s. His back against Sayid’s chest. Sayid’s mouth on his neck, licking, biting, tracing the curve of his shoulder. Sayid’s cock inside him, filling him, stabbing at him with short, sharp thrusts, the angle perfect so that Sayid hit the place inside him that made stars appear in front of his eyes over and over again.
He was babbling now, coherent thought fleeing from his mind as Sayid’s hand slick with the precome that was leaking from his cock twisted and glided up and down him and Sayid’s cock moved harder-faster inside him. And it didn’t matter that his hands were tied, that he had no control in what was being done to him, all that mattered was the feel of it overwhelming him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
Sayid’s mouth moving to his ear, that voice velvet smooth commanding him to
"Come for me Charlie."
And he did as he was told, crying out as he spilled over Sayid’s hand and his own belly. White flashes behind his eyes as he shook with the intensity of it, Sayid’s hand reaching up to turn Charlie’s face towards him before he captured his mouth in a searing kiss, hips still rolling-pumping into him, rhythm becoming more erratic until, with a shout, Sayid stilled and Charlie felt a pulse deep inside, heard Sayid whisper "I will not leave you" and he realised that he didn’t need drugs anymore, he had this. His new addiction.
Fandom/Pairing: Lost - Charlie/Sayid
Rating: NC-17 (for teh p0rn & dark themes)
Summary: Sayid continues to help Charlie with his withdrawal.
Warnings: Angst (oh boy is there angst), dark imagery.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never will.
Feedback: Makes me giddy.
Notes: A massive thank you and huge amounts of love to lillyjk who created this particular take on the characters of Charlie & Sayid in her incredible fic "Withdrawal" and then let me play with them. She also beta'd the hell out it too (in mega fast time) thanks babe!
This is set post Exodus and has many spoilers in it for season 1 (well kind of anyway!)
ETA: What I should have said when I posted this was - the basis behind this (soon to be) series of fics is philomel's Kinkathon request for Charlie back on the Smack and Sayid helping him off it. Sorry! It was 6.30am!
Withdrawal - Craving
The dreams come again that night, darker now - made into nightmares as the toxins which lie hidden deep within his body slowly seep into his bloodstream. Events replay in his mind in new and frightening ways, reality twisted into a horror show of that which could have come to pass. Locke dead, ripped apart by the monster that lurks in the jungle. Jack’s body lying broken at the foot of a cliff. Sawyer found tied up in a bamboo grove, empty eye sockets staring blankly ahead. Claire gone never to return. Michael burning along with his raft. In his dream he runs through the jungle, searching desperately for another human, calling out names until his voice is gone and tears stream down his face. He breaks free from the trees and finds himself on a beach where a rescue ship waits offshore. The remaining survivors climb aboard, but when he moves to join them Sayid blocks his path. He hands Charlie a hollow idol filled with powder tells him that he is not worthy of rescue, that he deserves to be left here on the island alone, the world had no use for a pathetic junkie like him, no one wants him, no one cares. He turns and walks away to join the others on the ship's deck, not looking back. Charlie falls to his knees and watches as the boat sails away. From the trees a whispering starts, growing in volume until it is so loud that it falls like blows on his ears. "Pathetic junkie, worthless loser, useless, alone, alone, alone."
*****
Alone. No heat from a body lying beside him. Silence in the cave, its space empty save for him lying naked, curled up under a ragged blanket. Body drawn in on itself to ward off the pain of his dreams. Shivering now. Sweat pouring out of him soaking the blankets underneath, the cold of the cave floor seeping through so that it feels like he is lying on ice. Alone. Sayid has gone, left him like everyone does, can’t be coming back because his arms and legs are free. If he was going to return then he would have tied him up again, made sure he couldn’t leave, but he hasn’t, too disgusted by the worthless druggie to stick around. The sunlight is too bright, need to get away from it. Hide in the dark at the back of the cave. Stay here, fade away into nothing, no one to miss him, no one to come looking.
Fuck, there’s fire crawling in his veins, like ants burrowing under the surface of his skin. They’re spreading, multiplying, marching up his arms, his legs. Need to get them out. Need to stop them moving. Dig in and find them, make them go away. Why didn’t he tie me up? Why has he left me? He promised. No need to tell the truth to someone who lies all the time. Let him think someone cares then use him and leave just like everyone else does. Blood is on fire, burning through the skin, it hurts so fucking much. Everything’s twitching, legs moving without permission and the voices are back. Louder now, familiar, saying his name, calling out to him, Charlie, Charlie...
"Charlie look at me!"
The sting of a hand slapping his cheek and he focuses on Sayid’s face, worry in those eyes that see everything, see too much. Fading away again now as the insects under his skin crawl faster. Ragged nails tear at his arms as he tries to set them free, get them out. He can hear a keening sound, animalistic, like a dog trapped and afraid. That can’t be him making that sound can it? He feels detached, like he’s floating away. He can see himself pressed against the walls at the back of the cave, rocking back and forth in place, Sayid crouched down in front of him hands reaching out to capture his wrists, stopping him from adding to the blood that runs down his arms.
"You are hurting yourself, Charlie. Stop. Stop now"
Stop. The word snaps him back into place and he stops moving, stops scratching, stops the noise from coming out of his mouth. Listen to Sayid, do what he says. Do what he tells you to do. Fingers push leaves into his mouth and he starts to chew, that’s what Sayid wants him to do so he does it. A hand ghosts across his face, soothing the place where his cheek glows red, fingers slide through his hair, moving to cup the back of his skull drawing his head forward and down, the feeling of lips pressing against his forehead as the black of oblivion settles in again and he slumps into waiting arms.
*******
He wakes to the sound of water and the feel of grass beneath his body. This time he is not alone, this time Sayid is lying beside him, pressed in close enough that the inhale and exhale as he breathes causes the hair on the back of Charlie’s neck to move in time to its rhythm. Sayid is murmuring to himself, the words unfamiliar to Charlie’s ears. He strains to understand before he realises that Sayid is speaking Arabic, his native language flowing from his mouth in a way that the English he has adopted never quite manages. Instinctively Charlie knows that Sayid is praying and he holds himself still so that he doesn’t interrupt. Charlie was once a religious man, before Driveshaft, before Liam, before his fall from grace made him the sinner he is now, he understands the power of faith and the calming nature of talking to one’s God and as he listens his mind fills with regret at the loss of it in his world. No going back though, not now that the image of The Virgin will forever be tainted in his mind by the lure of hazy sweet warmth spreading through his limbs, blotting out all that he hates and fears, taking his pain and self-doubt and banishing it far away from view.
He can feel it creeping through him, the craving taking hold of him, he wants one last hit, just one - for the road so to speak. He’s clean again now, Sayid has worked his magic and just one hit won’t hurt any. Won’t get him addicted again. Saliva floods his mouth as the need begins to build and he tries to swallow but instead his body is wracked by a coughing fit that makes him shake and draw his arms around himself as though he is trying to stop his lungs from bursting from his chest. Behind him Sayid stops speaking and, as strong arms wrap around him to hold him fast, a pang of regret courses through him at the words Sayid has had to leave unsaid.
The coughing subsides and a hand moves up to rest on his forehead the feel of it cold against his skin and that can’t be right. He shouldn’t feel a chill at the touch of Sayid’s hand.
"You have a fever. It is a product of the withdrawal. I brought you to the water to cool you down."
Sayid’s voice is soft, calming. The words stroking over him, urging him to relax. But then the memory of waking alone comes back and a bitterness surfaces.
"You didn’t tie me up."
He feels Sayid pull back and he can easily imagine the confusion that is crossing his face.
"I am sorry Charlie, I do not understand."
Sayid wouldn’t understand would he? He doesn’t fear being alone, he’s too strong and together for something so stupid to bother him. Charlie realises how pathetic he will sound, how needy and weak but he speaks anyway.
"I thought you weren’t coming back. I woke up alone and you hadn’t tied me up so I thought…"
A hand cups his chin and he finds himself turned to face Sayid, features grave, his eyes filled with pity and the sight of it makes Charlie try to turn his head away, but Sayid’s hand holds his head in place.
"I apologise. I left to retrieve some water thinking that you would remain asleep but it seems that your body is becoming used to the effects of the leaves and you woke before I returned. I promised that I will not leave you and I intend to keep my word."
Unblinking eyes fix on his and it feels like Sayid is staring into the very depths of him. Now he needs to look away, not in disbelief at the words spoken but to hide the darkness that he knows dwells deep inside. Can’t cope with seeing the disappointment and disgust that will appear when Sayid discovers just how worthless he really is. How pointless the idea is, of saving someone who cannot be saved.
"I need to clean the cuts on your arms. I did not want to do it while you were asleep as it will be quite painful."
Charlie looks down at his arms and sees for the first time the criss-cross pattern of scratches across his skin. Some are superficial, others deeper, darkened with clotted blood. A memory of burning in his veins bursts forth and he begins to feel it start again. His fingers flex, nails scraping at his own palms as the insects begin to stir.
"Look at me Charlie."
His head snaps up, the command in Sayid’s voice impossible not to obey.
"I can assure you that there is nothing underneath your skin. It is purely your imagination playing tricks on you. Now, sit up and hold out your arms."
A slight wave of dizziness hits as he sits up straight. His arms shaking slightly as he holds them out. His fingertips brush Sayid’s chest as he kneels down and Charlie wants to let his hands roam across the muscles there, he wants to feel them flex under his touch. He closes his eyes as the memory of Sayid moving above him, Sayid inside him, pushes the crawling-burning aside and fills him with a new kind of fire.
A hand closes around his wrist, thumb stroking across his pulse point and he opens his eyes to see Sayid smiling, lips curling more now as amusement fills his eyes.
"This will hurt."
Charlie is confused, all they have is water how is that going to…… Fuck! Reflex kicks in and he tries to pull his arm away from whatever it is that Sayid has just put on it.
"What the fuck is that? It fucking stings."
Sayid stops what he is doing, reaches down to the ground and then waves a small bottle in front of Charlie’s face.
"Vodka. I acquired it from Sawyer. I thought it best to bring it with us in case either of us had a wound that needed to be cleaned. I had hoped that it would remain unopened…"
Sawyer? Sawyer knew why Sayid had lead him away from the camp. If Sawyer knew then so did everyone. Shame flared bright inside him, he couldn’t go back, not now the whole camp knew what a fucked up mess he was.
"Do not worry. I did not tell him why we were leaving or where we were going. I would not trust him with information like that. He accused me of wanting to get you drunk and have my, how did he put it, wicked way with you. I assured him that was not the case. Luckily I do not think he caught my lie. I find it amazing that, even when weakened by a bullet wound, that man still finds the strength to go out of his way to annoy me."
So Sayid did lie sometimes then, perhaps he was lying when he said the heroin had been destroyed. It could be used as medicine, Jack might need it one day. Sayid probably hid it somewhere safe that only he and Jack knew about, if he could just get him to tell him where it was…
Charlie watched as Sayid cleaned the rest of the cuts on his arms, mind racing as he tried to think of the best way to get him to reveal the location of the stash. The craving was back now, filling his senses. Just one hit, one perfect taste of oblivion that’s all he wanted. His mouth was dry with the need of it. He could almost feel the warmth spreading through his limbs, cradling him as he drifted away. He wanted it so badly that he would do anything to get it, anything.
Hands on his shoulders drew his attention back to Sayid and he looked up to see him standing in front of him. His waist level with Charlie’s eyes, zipper and what lay behind it level with his mouth. Anything It wasn’t like Sayid was likely to object now was it - a win/win situation. Sayid would get his dick sucked and he would get his drugs. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before sex for drugs, drugs for sex. It was all endorphins after all, just released into the body via a different method.
Charlie shifted forward, moving in close to nuzzle his head into Sayid’s thigh, breathing the scent of him in so that it filled his senses. Fingers threaded their way into his hair and he smiled to himself. This was better than the times he had done this before, at least this time he liked the guy he was on his knees in front of. He had fantasised about the feel-taste of Sayid’s cock in his mouth so many times since they crashed on this damn island, long before he woke up in his arms in a hidden cave. He smiled to himself at the guilty pleasure he would get whilst he earned his fix and then reached up a hand to open Sayid’s fly.
"Know this now, I will not give you any drugs no matter what you do. You may continue with your plan if you wish, I will not object but you will not receive what you want at the end of it."
The fucker could read minds. That was the only possible explanation. Charlie tried to think of something to say but his mind was blank.
"Stand up."
No way was he standing up now. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in Sayid’s eyes.
"I repeat. Stand up."
Hands pushed under his arms and he was yanked to his feet. Can’t look him in the eye. Deny his accusation, act hurt, make him feel sorry for you.
"I brought you here to help you, not to let you continue to kill yourself. Do not make me regret my actions."
Rage filled him as he realised that he would not get his way and he lashed out with words, seeking to hurt deep to the core of the man who had up till now been his saviour.
"You brought me here to torture me. I know what you are, what you did. You enjoy inflicting pain on people, you like breaking them, watching them squirm, making them beg. You like that I need you to help me. You want to make me dependant on you, make me into your own personal whore. Pathetic Charlie, yours for the taking when you want him. So needy, so desperate, he’ll do anything for a little attention."
He was striking out with his fists now too, raining blows onto Sayid’s chest and arms. No longer in control of his actions, of his mouth.
"You don’t need to break me to have me. Just give me the drugs and you can do anything you want to me, tie me up, beat me, fuck me till I scream I don’t care just give me the drugs."
A hand caught one of his and he found himself spun round, his arm twisted high behind his back making him hiss in pain. Sayid leant in close and a voice heavy with menace sounded in his ear.
"I have no intention of beating you Charlie. I have no desire to cause you pain. I am however, going to tie you up until you calm down."
Charlie laughed, of course Sayid was going to tie him up again.
"You like this bondage thing don’t you. Binding my hands so that you’re in charge. Did they teach you that in Iraq? And what’s with the keeping me naked all the time? Are you ever going to let me wear clothes again or am I your dirty little secret. Naked Charlie stashed away in a cave far from prying eyes. Waiting for you to come and fuck me. I don’t care what you do, use me however you want just give me the fucking heroin."
As he spoke he felt his hands pulled together at the base of his spine and rope being wound round them and he realised that the feel of it, of his control being taken away was going straight to his groin. His cock filling at the thought of Sayid sinking into him, filling him, making him feel something other than empty and useless.
"I do not think that you mean what you are saying Charlie, so I am going to ignore your words, particularly as it would appear that you enjoy being tied up, or at least, a part of you does."
A hand snaked round his hip and at the first touch of Sayid’s fingers wrapping around his cock all the anger left him and he felt himself relax. Head lolling back so that it rested on Sayid’s shoulder, eyes closed, sensation washing over him.
Pressure on the back of his knees and he obeyed the wordless command. Lowering himself slowly down to the ground, Sayid following behind him, his hand still moving on Charlie’s cock. The pressure just right as it slid up and down. He heard the sound of a zipper opening, then a muttered curse and the hand left his cock and he grinned when he realised that there were some things even Sayid couldn’t do. Removing his trousers one handed whilst on his knees being one of them.
"I want to be inside you again Charlie. But only if you want it too. Answer me truthfully, what do you want me to do?"
"Fuck me" There was no other answer to give.
"Are you sure that you would not prefer me to give you your drugs?" The menace was back in Sayid’s voice sending shivers down Charlie’s spine.
"Don’t want drugs. Want you."
"A very eloquent answer. Now lean forward."
Pressure on the back of his neck and he followed its direction. A pile of clothes pushed in front of him to keep his head from the ground. He buried his face into them and inhaled, the scent of Sayid filling his senses once more. He thought briefly that he should feel ashamed, kneeling on the ground, his arms tied behind his back, his ass in the air, legs spread wide apart waiting for Sayid to settle in between them. But that thought left his mind as he felt Sayid’s hands slowly travel the length of his spine. Thumbs digging in hard, fingers ghosting at their sides, muscles that he didn’t realise were tense relaxing as they were touched by those magic hands. Over and over the hands moved up and down his spine, nerve endings igniting in their wake. He felt hypnotised by the rhythm, his awareness of where he was vanishing until there was only his skin and Sayid’s hands and the shivers they sent skittering through his nervous system. He strained against his bonds, wanting to reach out and pull Sayid’s hands lower. Needing to feel them on his ass, between his legs, wrapped around his cock. His breathing slowed, inhale as the hands moved up, exhale as they moved down.
Then they were gone and he moaned at the loss, pushing back against Sayid’s body, desperate for contact. A hand on his ass, then dipping down between his legs to cup and roll his balls making him gasp and moan for more. A single finger tracing it’s way upwards, slick with liquid. Pressure on his perineum ripping another moan from his throat. Then a hand gripped his cock and a finger pushed inside him at the same moment and he cried out at the pleasure-pain of it, pushing back again, wanting, needing more.
A second finger joined the first and the hand on his cock fisted him in time to the movement of them in and out of his body. Fingers opening him up, ghosting over the spot that made him cry out for more. Too slow, too gentle, this was torture. He wanted to feel the stretch and burn of Sayid’s cock inside him now not this tenderness, this care that Sayid was taking.
A laugh, and he realised that he must have said some of that out loud. The weight of Sayid’s body on his back as he whispered in his ear.
"Patience."
"Please, God please just fuck me." Desperation overwhelming now, the craving taking him over.
Another laugh and then the fingers were withdrawn and an arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him up as he felt the blunt pressure of Sayid’s cock pushing inside him until he was seated with his legs on either side of Sayid’s. His back against Sayid’s chest. Sayid’s mouth on his neck, licking, biting, tracing the curve of his shoulder. Sayid’s cock inside him, filling him, stabbing at him with short, sharp thrusts, the angle perfect so that Sayid hit the place inside him that made stars appear in front of his eyes over and over again.
He was babbling now, coherent thought fleeing from his mind as Sayid’s hand slick with the precome that was leaking from his cock twisted and glided up and down him and Sayid’s cock moved harder-faster inside him. And it didn’t matter that his hands were tied, that he had no control in what was being done to him, all that mattered was the feel of it overwhelming him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
Sayid’s mouth moving to his ear, that voice velvet smooth commanding him to
"Come for me Charlie."
And he did as he was told, crying out as he spilled over Sayid’s hand and his own belly. White flashes behind his eyes as he shook with the intensity of it, Sayid’s hand reaching up to turn Charlie’s face towards him before he captured his mouth in a searing kiss, hips still rolling-pumping into him, rhythm becoming more erratic until, with a shout, Sayid stilled and Charlie felt a pulse deep inside, heard Sayid whisper "I will not leave you" and he realised that he didn’t need drugs anymore, he had this. His new addiction.